


don't tell me i told you so                      i'm already bleeding

by inacolloquialsense



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: M/M, Mentions of PTSD, description of emt working on q after an accident and description of some scarring, emotional as well as physical trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inacolloquialsense/pseuds/inacolloquialsense
Summary: q gets into an accident with his motorcycle. he and murr deal with what comes after





	don't tell me i told you so                      i'm already bleeding

Asphalt is not forgiving. It lacks the softness of sand or dirt. Hands made this material to last and last and last. A single body straddling a hunk of metal makes no difference. It lays silent, some would say hungry for the spoils of carnage.

His ears are ringing, and some part of his brain is screaming for him to get up. Get away. Escape. The limbs he trusted to carry him every day don’t cooperate. There is no pain, yet. All shock and adrenaline. How long has he been lying here?

He sees a red spot on his left leg, not deep enough to be called a gash too large for a scrape. That’s gotta be blood trickling down his pants. He touches a wetness dripping down his head as well. All signs point to bad news.

Sirens ring in the distance, low and distorted. He passes out. Only to be awoken by the same sirens, bright and clear as the ambulance is within throwing distance of him. He blinks and someone is in front of him. They cradle his head and slowly dole out questions to which he responds.

What is your name? Can you tell me where you are? What time is it? Are you in pain?

He gets most of them right from the expression he sees on the EMT’s face. The only thing wrong is the time. When he looked at his watch he sees its shattered face and the little arms lie detached from the center. It rattles and he watches the loose metal shake with his arm. It was an anniversary present.

Whatever he said must have been enough. The people surrounding him have him on a gurney and are lifting him into the ambulance. He watches one of them with a pair of scissors. The metal blades tear through his clothes like they’re nothing. He loses most of his left pant leg, his jacket and his shirt.

The pain encroaches on his otherwise lovely trip to the hospital, and he cries out when they rub something on his wound. It’s dark orange and smells like years of getting patched up by shaky hands. Whispers of ‘please don’t tell my mom’ and ‘that fucker had it coming to him for talking to you like that.’

“Ow. Fucking shit.” Quinn’s eyes are wide open now. He can see everything. Hear everything. Feel everything. “What are you doing to me?”

He speaks to a woman whose gloved hands seem to be digging into his marrow, but in reality are lightly touching him. “I’m sorry, sir. If this doesn’t get cleaned and set it will feel a lot worse. Charlie get him 1.5 mg of dilaudid.” 

Brian watches another EMT draw liquid from a brown glass bottle into a syringe. They depressed the plunger slowly, keeping a steady hand. “Thanks.” Q said. Within the next five minutes his pain drifted away and his eyes began to droop. It’s less from the drug and more from the exhaustion of the experience.

He wakes up to Murray sitting by the side of his bed. “Those things are deathtraps, and I’m glad your bike got the worst of it.” He held his hand. “It was a stupid fucking thing to buy. You’re too young to have a midlife crisis." 

"You don’t even say hello, and now you’re lecturing me?” Brian murmured with a slurred voice. Murr squeezed his hand. 

“You’re damned right I am.” His eyes were hard and but his lips still tilted up at the side. “I should slap you for scaring me." 

"I’d rather you kiss me.” Q pulled him in. “I’m glad you’re here.” He said as they parted. 

“I’m not. These places are cesspools of disease.” Murray looked to his right at the other patient. “I don’t even know what that guy has, but he’s been injected with enough meds to put down a horse." 

Brian lifted his head. The guy looked normal enough, sleeping like he had been minutes ago. "Oh, tell me. What did the doc say about me?” He said suddenly reminded of his own wounded state. 

“You banged your head up, got ten stitches in your leg, fractured your wrist, and a lot of bruises on your chest. Lots of scratches everywhere. Thankfully no internal bleeding or major brain trauma.” James scooted his chair closer to the bed. “She said you’d probably recover within a few months." 

"Wow.” Quinn’s eyes were wide with the info dump he just received. “Huh.” He blinked a few times. “What happened to Babs?" 

Murr shifted in his seat. "She’s in your usual shop. Martin said you’re better off selling the metal for scraps and buying a new one." 

"Go easy. Fuck, man. He tell you I should mug the elderly, too? He’s got no heart. I’ve barely had her two years. That bike was my baby.” He moved his hand through his hair unconsciously but found bandages covering it. He hissed in pain after touching the still tender skin. 

“Look, you shouldn’t be riding for a while, anyways.” James pet his shoulder. 

Q leant into the feeling, eyes cast down. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a buzzing coming from somewhere in the room, and Murray sticks a hand down his pants pocket. “Hello?” He listens. “I’ll be there in an hour.” Someone is not happy about that, Quinn thinks as he hears screams. “Yeah. Sorry, man. In half an hour.”

“Who is that?” He mouths the words, pointing his index finger to the cell phone.

Murr covers the receiver. “Dan. I have to get to a production meeting.” He lifts his hand. “I know. I’m listening. I was with Q. He just woke up.” Before Brian can speak James has his coat on and is leaning in to give him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you. No, not you Dan. Fuckwad. Jesus, man. I’m rushing. I’ll be there.” He’s gone.

“Glad I was woken up for this.” Quinn huffs. When he looks at his surroundings the only almost entertaining thing is the tv set to some channel he dislikes, and the volume is too low for him to even hate watch. “SHIT.” 

The man beside him doesn’t stir. He’s got bigger issues to be tranquilized through.

“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”

“And Q can’t compete in the next few challenges, because he crashed his sweet ride and got all banged up. Automatic forfeit.” Joe pat his shoulder lightly. They’re all smiling at the cameras while people walk behind them. “Luckily for him, we’re here to keep him busy.”

The normalcy of going back on the job brings him a sense of calm. Two weeks of standing with shooting pain and feeling woozy every hour was enough. His leg still hurts on occasion, but it was very manageable with the stitches removed. He barely noticed the brace on his arm. Until the guys decided to give him a round two with a camera physically attached to him.

He doesn’t get punched in the face, and the cops aren’t called. Most of the people he lightly harassed even give their signatures over. Murr’s on him like glue the first moment he can. “How are you, buddy?” He hands him a bottle of water and helps him untape the camera from his hand.

“Thanks.” He stares at his fuzzy head fondly. “I’m doing well.” His opposite arm pulls around Murr. There’s a little surprised yelp when he picks him up. “Oh you’re cute.”

“Q, stop.” He’s sure everybody’s getting an eyeful as his ass is in the air. His shoes make a soft patting noise when Brian gently lowers him. “Thank you.” Sticky residue from the duct tape still lingers, but it’s as clean as he’s going to get it with only his hands. “That should do it.”

“Hey love-birds, we’re ready to roll in five.” Joe shouts at them. He’s munching on a sandwich. There’s no crafts service table in sight, but he knows how to make things happen.

“Yeah, yeah.” Brian waves him off with his good hand. “Now about tomorrow. Are we still on for seven?” He’s up close and personal.

Murr’s smirking at him and chuckling under his breath. “Yeah, absolutely.”

“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“

The couch is warm from them laying on it all night, and both of them are stuffed from take out. There are few things more perfect in life. “There’s Netflix, HBO, Hulu, and Amazon.” Murr is nestled into the crook of his arm.

He presses the controller buttons quickly. “How do you feel about some Skinemax?” Grumbles emanate from his belly, and he’s reminded how full he is. “Or maybe something else.”

“Girls or Breaking Bad?” James gives the options. His fingers are rubbing softly on Q’s belly.

That’s not really a question. Q looks to his favorites list and puts on the first episode of Girls. “Do you mind re-watching?”

“No.” Murr lies down and rests his head on Brian’s lap. “I might nod off.”

“All tuckered out from a day of confusing strangers in the park?” He kneaded his shoulder playfully.

“Tired from all of your bullshit.” Murray interrupted himself with a yawn. He turns and Quinn has the crown of his head in his palm. “I love you.”

Q has a sudden flashback to the first time Murr said it after the hospital. 

Buried in conversation like it was always there. During one of several retellings of his crash to friends James interrupted him. He speaks between Brian and the group, switching his gaze to and fro in an animated way. “He doesn’t know. For the most part he was unconscious. You were so out of it when I saw you. I think you were hopped up on morphine or something. For a while he was mumbling to himself. It was kind of endearing. I love him. You might have been dreaming. I couldn’t tell. I sat by your bed for hours trying to figure it out. It was all so weird seeing you like that. Wrapped up and sterilized. I know I lost a few years of my life from worrying about you. All for some stupid motorcycle. I’ll tell you what if he ever does something that dangerously stupid again I’ll drop his ass at the curb.” 

Usually he made a room lighter, carried a sense of ease, but Murr seemed to ripple with something more serious that night. From his voice to his aggressive mannerisms he demanded the eyes of the room. He didn’t casually want attention he needed it like a junkie. Cut conversations at the passe when they drifted to Quinn. Butt in every time Q tried talking about his injuries. Spotlight. Distraction. Spotlight.

It wasn’t until when they were laying in bed together that it clicked. “You love me?” 

Murr didn’t hesitate. “I love you.”

“Really?” Quinn rests his head on his folded arm. “You barely let me get out two words tonight.”

“I know the get together was your unofficial recovery party, but I’ve had enough accident talk.” James rests his fingers over the scars on Brian’s arm, running around his shoulder. Tiny mountains raising his fingertips. Over the past month he’s been able to explore more and more of them as the bandages have come off. “It’s all they wanted to yap about.” Quinn’s never been fragile before. It’s new and scary and a little bit sexy. He’s wondering when it gets to be normal again. This was a fun romp, but not worth the pain that crinkles Brain’s face whenever he has to stand.

“I haven’t seen any of them since last May. You can’t hoard me to yourself.” Q stares at him, open and sensitive. 

“I can when I’m the one fixing you up every day.” Murray has his hand over his chest. “I can when you’re having night terrors and I wake up to muffled screams.” His face is scrunched up and small. He’s trying not to cry. “You shouldn’t think you’re alone through this. It’s kicking both of our asses.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I didn’t realize what it was doing to you. We could get a nurse or something.” Brian bends his head forward. “You don’t have to deal with me any more.”

“That’s not what I want. I like being absorbed into your daily routine.” James is offended at the idea of abandoning Q. “I want to be a part of you feeling better. That is through the good and the bad. During the party it just hit me again how close you were from never coming back to me, and I wanted to throw up. I got anxious and couldn’t stand hearing you stutter through the story about how you were hurt. Did you notice how you twitch when you hear sirens? Or how your right hand grips tight when you hear a skid out, like you’re still trying to break? You make me ache and you haven’t even laid a finger on me.”

Air hung in between them, thick and oozing.

“So yes. I’m sorry if I offend, but I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Something swells up in his chest, and Brian accepts his fate as a sappy piece of shit. Anything for the babe in his lap.


End file.
